


run boy, run

by fromthehillbythelake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, there's like a bit of Bellarke if you squint?? but yeah Ravick is the focus :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3534593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthehillbythelake/pseuds/fromthehillbythelake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot about the Raven and Wick walk back to Camp Jaha, ft. Abby, Bellamy, Clarke, and Monty</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just posting this here from my tumblr, enjoy! :)

 

* * *

 

_._

_**t-minus 7 hours**_  
.

 

He holds her so she fits just-so against his chest, her head cradled in his neck.  
  
He does’t say much, just keeps her close and answers any questions directed at her with light joke.  She’s grateful, too tired to face anyone right now, least of all to make small talk.    
  
She falls in and out of consciousness, jerking herself awake along the long and treacherous route to glare at him every-so-often and make sure he knows she’s going to give him crap for carrying her later.   _Friggin embarrassing._  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, low in her ear.   _I know. Later._  
  
She closes her eyes, pretending to sleep because anything other than  _him_ , his warmth, his beating heart, will break her.  And how unfair is that?  She's exhausted and angry and useless swaying in his arms, but he still insists on carrying her even when she knows the pain he's in himself.  She plays the scene over and over in her head; the whir of the drill, the flow of the blood, the ache of her screams.  It isn’t pretend anymore when she fits her frame perfectly against his, stuffing her face into the cotton of his shirt to let out the tears.  
  
“I’ve got you,” he says.

 

.  
_**t-minus 6 hours**  
_.

 

“Abby,” he says picking up his pace only slightly, Raven still sleeping soundlessly in his arms.  “I’m sorry I-”  
  
“What is it?” Abby asks, looking back at him on her stretcher, smile warm.  
  
“I’m sorry, I know you must be exhausted, I…I just-”  
  
“It’s alright,” Abby smiles still.  
  
“Is there…” Wick sighs.  “Is there anything I can do for her?” he gestures down at Raven.  “Don’t tell her I asked you though,” he laughs, the smile not reaching his eyes.   _Everything’s fine._   “Damn mechanics and their pride.”  
  
“Is she hot?” Abby asks, looking over her.  She’s impressed the engineer managed to find a blanket to wrap around Raven.  
  
“Warm,” Wick says quietly, feeling Raven stir.  
  
Abby nods contemplatively.  “We can let her use my stretcher for a bit-"  
  
"No," Wick shakes his head, and Kane interjects.  "Don't worry about it."  
  
Abby smiles again.  "It’ll be fine.  She’ll be fine.  Just try and carry her a little longer.  That’s the best thing you can do right now.”  
  
Wick nods, thanking her, before hauling Raven more securely against himself and walking off.  
  
“Almost there,” he says.

 

.  
_**t-minus 5 hours**  
_.

 

She’s so small.   
  
So small his hand takes up half her thigh, and if he curled her up she could fit right on top of his torso.  
  
“You alright?” She touches his cheek, a deep frown line pulling her brows together.  The gesture surprises him.  
  
Her thumb barely reaches his lips.  
  
_So small._  
  
“Kinda wishing I’d stolen some of that chocolate cake Monty swore by for us right about now,” he smirks.  
  
She rolls her eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.  “Idiot.  It’s the pretzels I was really looking forward to.”

 

.  
_**t-minus 4 hours**  
_.

 

She starts fiddling with his jacket zipper, and he almost smiles, knowing how uncomfortable this must be for her.

“I wanna try walking,” she says, huffing.  Four hours of quiet non-activity must be driving her stir-crazy. 

“Sure,” he says, and her eyes narrow suspiciously, not expecting him to give in so easily.  
  
“Did you hear me?” she asks, as he continues walking.  
  
“Yep,” he says, not slowing his pace.  
  
“Wick!” she demands, glaring up at his stupid face which is the epitome of innocence.  “You’re so annoying!” she groans, throwing back her head.  
  
Wick snorts with laughter.   _Yeah yeah, I know.  Later._  
  
“Your arms have been shaking for the last 10 minutes,” she snaps, looking him square in the eye.  “So put me down already!”  
  
“Whaaat?” he laughs, feeling a trickle of sweat fall from his hairline.  “I’m fine, never been better.”  
  
“Stop with the bravado,” she growls, tugging on his jacket.  “Or I’ll start kicking.”  
  
“You wouldn’t dare,” he gasps, as if he’s never heard something so offensive in his life, and that just makes her  _pissed_.   _Idiot_.  
  
She starts flailing her leg and his arms slacken immediately: “Alright, alright, hold on,” he surrenders.  Raven smiles triumphantly.    
  
“I’ll get someone else to carry you for a bit, alright?”  
  
“No,” Raven hisses.  It was embarrassing enough with  _him_  doing it.  “I’ll just walk myself!”  
  
“Raven,” Wick says, looking at her seriously.  “You don’t have a brace right now.  Please.  Just for a bit.  Half an hour, tops.  I’ll even stick around if you want.  Please?”  
  
She arches a brow to let him know how  _very_  unhappy she is about this entire situation, but relents all the same.  
  
“Fine,” she grumbles.  
  
“Alright,” he says, scanning the crowd.  “We need somebody strong.  How about that really tall guy.  By….Octavia?”

  
_Lincoln._

  
“Not him,” she says quietly, avoiding Wick’s eyes.  Not the guy she’d helped torture; took an active part in torturing him.  
  
“Okay,” Wick says easily, and she’s glad he seems to understand.  His eyes spot a figure in the crowd.  “Bellamy, then?”  
  
Raven bites her lip.  She could manage that.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Wick walks towards him, interrupting Bellamy’s hushed conversation with Clarke.  
  
“Hey,” Wick smiles.  “Sorry guys, we need a favour.  Bellamy, do you think you could carry Raven for a bit?  Thirty minutes tops?”  
  
“Sorry,” Raven grumbles, looking down.  
  
Bellamy smiles back.  “Sure,” he says solemnly.  “As long as you need.”  
  
“Thanks man,” Wick says, doing his best to pass Raven onto Bellamy’s outstretched arms without moving her legs.  
  
Clarke and Raven start talking in that familiar way they do, and Wick catches the way Bellamy’s eyes go cold.  
  
“Thank you,” Wick says, clasping a hand to his shoulder.   _For everything_.  “You guys were great in there.”  
  
Bellamy looks at him the same way Raven does when she can’t figure something out.   _Responsible._  
  
Bellamy nods.  
  
“Don’t know about you,” Wick smirks, “but I can’t wait to get back and have a shower.”  
  
Bellamy smiles.  
  
“Yeah, you stink,” Raven says, and they all chuckle.  
  
_Or a drink_.

 

.  
_**t-minus 3 hours**  
_.

 

Her thigh starts bleeding again, and he takes a moment to adjust the cloth tie around her leg.

He has to stop for a second, swallowing back the vomit pushing up his throat.  He feels sick remembering the hum of the drill, remembering her screams.

He felt so helpless.

She’s sleeping again, nothing fierce or angry about her expression, and he finds himself staring.

He doesn’t forget about the hurricane brimming underneath though, the way her skin contains a force of nature. 

She is a storm - dangerous, powerful, and unforgiving - but, he feels the way his eyes start to burn, he’s never minded the rain.

Her face pushes into his shoulder as a few unexpected tears fall down his cheeks.

 

.  
_**t-minus 2 hours**  
_.

 

“Stop singing!” Raven snaps, punching his chest.  He’s been humming and whispering broken melodies for the last 5 minutes.  
  
“But I’m so good at it!” Wick smiles, completely unperturbed.    
  
“No, you’re not.”  
  
“I’ll have you know, I won the ‘ _Little Miss Mecha_ ’ singing competition back on the Ark,” Wick says, straight-faced.  
  
“You’re so full of shit.”  
  
“A little,” Wick smirks.

Raven rolls her eyes.  
  
“Here comes the bride,” Wick sing-songs, swaying her in his arms.  “Here comes the bride-”  
  
“Shut the fuck up, oh my God,” Raven hisses, covering her eyes with her forearm.  
  
“Is somebody a little hungry?” Wick pouts teasingly, quirking a brow at her.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
“Right,” Wick gives her a shit-eating grin.  
  
They walk in silence for a bit, and Raven starts fidgeting with the unresolved tension.  Her fault.  
  
“Hey Monty,” Wick calls, making Monty, who’s a few feet behind them, jump.  He’d been travelling alone the entire walk back.  “My singing’s alright, isn’t it?”  
  
Monty smiles.  “You want the honest answer?”  
  
Raven guffaws and Wick clicks his tongue, feigning hurt.  “I thought my protegee would at least have my back, man.”  
  
“Sorry,” Monty says solemnly, wrapping his sweater tighter around himself.  
  
“I’ll let it go, only cause you helped save all our asses back there,” Wick grins back at him.  
  
Monty’s shoulders stiffen, but he smiles back.  
  
Raven watches Monty walk behind them for a bit, wondering if she should give him Jasper’s goggles.    
  
“Come and walk beside us for a bit,” Wick suggests softly.  “It’s killing my neck trying to look back at you.”  
  
Monty jogs closer, and it hurts Raven to see him looking so thankful.  
  
The three of them walk in comfortable silence for a while, in that way that mechanics and engineers always seem to find a way to, even amongst the chaos.

 

.  
_**t-minus 1 hour**  
_.

 

Wick’s pace slows a bit and his hunger is starting to get to him, and his patience is wearing thin, so thin he’s almost stopped talking all together, but he keeps walking, determined to carry her for the last hour and a bit.  
  
Raven can  _feel_  his irritation, can feel the way he probably regrets picking her up at all - this bum-leg of a girl with a hot head and a foul mouth, and a life-sentence to boot.   _A burden_.  
  
“Raven,” he snaps, and Raven grits her teeth, making to jump out of his arms.  She  _knew_  it.  
  
“I’ve got you,” he says, looking through her in that way she can’t decide if she hates.  “Alright?”

She looks back at him just as fiercely, giving him one last chance to back down.  
  
Finally, she nods, resting her head against his chest.  She pretends she doesn’t notice his smile as she fidgets with his zipper again, pulling it up and down purposefully.  
  
_We’ve got this.  We’ll be okay._

“Thanks.”

 

.  
_**Camp Jaha**  
_.

 


	2. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my muse demanded an epilogue, so here it is :) i hope you like it

* * *

...

It's less than an hour before Raven's up-and-at-em again, demanding to work.  The intimacy of their journey, their playful banter; it has no place here, and fizzles out abysmally.  Like she regrets her vulnerability and wants him to forget it too.  
  
"Raven," Wick regards her sternly.  "It's going to take weeks for your marrow to return to normal levels.  Recovery is a full day.  Minimum."  
  
"I shouldn't have fallen asleep," she says, trying to get changed.  "You shouldn't have let me fall asleep."  
  
"Hey," he says, taking her arm.  "I've got trigger fingers as much as you.  But I know that running on low won't help anyone.  Especially you."  
  
She knows he's right.  It doesn't make the truth easy to swallow.  
  
"Abby still has to make her rounds.  Just let her check you out, all right?"  
  
Raven frowns.  
  
"She's worse off than me.   _She_ needs the recovery time more than anyone.  I'm too low on the list of patients to not do something while we wait."  
  
"Raven, ple-"  
  
"And where's Clarke?  I need to talk to her about-"  
  
"I haven't seen her since we came in the gate," Wick answers.  "I'm sure she's with her mom.  Or Bellamy.  Listen-"  
  
"I need to talk to her-"  
  
"Raven," Wick says sharply.  "I haven't eaten.  Neither have you.  We need more water, we need more meds, we need to get cleaned up.  And we need to take a second to _think_.  You're not being 'useless' for taking time to recover, you know.  And you do _not_ have to pay me back for carrying you or whatever-" Raven scoffs ( _screw him for figuring her out_ ) "-and I know that's what you're thinking-"  
  
"You're injured too-"  
  
"-so _please_ , just listen to me.  I'll be with you when you figure out what you wanna do - how you wanna help or whatever - if you want me.  But until tomorrow, you need to fucking take it easy."

"I don't-" Raven mutters, fidgeting with her pant hem.  "I don't know...how...to just...take it easy.  I'm not like you."    
  
Wick's lip curls.  
  
"I didn't mean-"  
  
"Don't worry," Wick says.  "I get it.  I know what you meant."  
  
Raven takes a breath, unsure of how to continue.   _I'm not good at this crap._

"I just...I feel...badly..."  
  
"Badly?" Wick encourages her.  
  
"Not bad, just...I don't know how to do this.  You're freaking me out."  
  
Wick tilts his head.  
  
"Do you...understand...what I'm trying-"  
  
Wick keeps quiet, and she takes it that he hopes she'll keep going.   _Shit._

"You're one of the very few things I can't figure out," she says finally, looking up at him.  "Just give me some time."  
  
Wick nods, touching her arm.  "I'm your friend, first and foremost, Raven."  
  
She leans closer, absentmindedly, aching for his warmth that surrounded her the entire walk back.  It had been so long since she'd been held like that.  
  
"Thank you," she says, quietly, letting her eyes close for a moment.  But she can practically feel the wheels turning in his head, knowing he's going to sit around staring at her like some lost puppy until she asks.  Yep, his eyes are definitely on her. 

"What?"  
  
He takes a second, tongue heavy in his mouth.  "Just thinking about some new designs for your new brace."  
  
She rolls her eyes.  "Like I'd wear another brace made by an engineer.  What's the next model going to have, fucking rocket launchers?"  She laughs, revelling in the familiarity of his lopsided grin.

"You'll be on your death bed before you acknowledge my genius, won't you?" he says, chuckling.  
  
"Not even then," she says.

"So you admit, you're denying it?" He wiggles his eyebrows. _Shit._  
  
"Fuck you," she laughs, no bite.  He laughs too, bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck.  The familiar hum of the machinery outside threatens to lull her to sleep.

"You're right," she says finally.  "We should get some sleep.  Just for a few hours though."  
  
They know, sharing a glance, that they won't have that fortune regularly from now on.  Wick looks over her and she hopes he asks because she's been humbled enough for a month.  
  
"You need help taking those off?" he says, gesturing to her clothes.  She frowns because it keeps her from blushing.  And then she nods.  He leans down, pulling off his jacket sleeve by sleeve, taking care not to look at her.  She's grateful; this isn't in their nature.  He jokes, she grumps, that's just the way they are.  This, she doesn't know how to deal with.   

"It's so..." she whispers, surprising herself.  His fingers stop their trail.  "-fucking useless," she pounds on her bum leg once, "sometimes."  It fucking hurts telling him, because it makes it true.  He doesn't make a joke like she expects him to.  Instead, there's something wistful about his smile, something painful about his expression.  

"We're all a little useless sometimes," he says softly.  "Like how I could only stand there, watching-" his voice breaks, "-when they fucking did that to you-"  
  
"Kyle," Raven breathes.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says, working on her zipper.  She puts her hands over his to get him to stop.  "Raven, I was so fucking scared-"  
  
She angles her back to reach for him so he pulls her up and envelops her in a hug, cradling her head in his arms.  They sit like that for a while, breathing in each other's hair and listening to each other's heartbeats, finding solace in the harmony of their bodies.  

"So was I," she whispers, trembling as short and sharp sobs wrack through his body.  
  
_Maybe_ , she thinks as he grips the skin of her hips,  _he needs me too_.

...

 

 


End file.
